


The Single Hound

by nineofswords



Category: Persona 3, Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dad Shinjiro, F/M, Many small chapters, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Using Emily Dickinson's The Single Hound
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-18 22:12:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11883891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nineofswords/pseuds/nineofswords
Summary: A year and a half after the death of Minako, Shinjiro wakes up to find himself alone and unneeded. He pursues cooking and moves to a small suburb of Tokyo, to lead a normal life. The universe finds a way to catch up with him as always.An attempt at bridging Persona 3 and Persona 5, and giving Goro the father figure he needs.





	1. I: The Single Hound

###  **I.**

 

ADVENTURE most unto itself

The Soul condemned to be;

Attended by a Single Hound–

Its own Identity.

 

Shinjiro had his fair share of run-ins with gods, both directly and indirectly. He had lived through what could be considered by many accounts “incredibly spooky and potentially fatal shit,” and yet, he was more anxious in customer service than he ever was during the Dark Hour. The hustle and bustle of the café at lunch rush on a weekend was less predictable, more chaotic, and overall more stress inducing than quite literally fighting for his life. He wasn’t sure what that said about him as a person, but it probably wasn’t something great. 

 

But here he was, one of two chefs working behind the counter in the small kitchen, the summer heat outside comparable to the heat of his surroundings. Through a window where food was placed for waiters to pick up, he can see that the entire place is packed, the chatter of families and individuals alike drowning out whatever soft jazz was playing. He brought an arm up to wipe some sweat off his brow, a lull in the orders giving him a momentary break, leaning back against the closest wall and frowning. 

 

This was his life now. He’d woken up from a coma to find the action already over, the Dark Hour done with and Hamuko dead. Even still, he’d evidently missed out on what was an entire party divide on trying to bring her back—a year and some change was a lot to miss out on, especially when your ties to your dead ex’s friend group were weak at best. 

 

He’d done his best to stick around to be there if anyone needed his help, but even Ken had already gotten himself back on two (six, if you added Koromaru) feet and everyone had already moved onto other things. Unsure of what to do and needing to sustain himself, he’d gotten a job on Tatsumi Port Island as a line chef and gone from there. One thing led to another; an opportunity came up for him to move to a suburb of Tokyo and he took it. He hadn’t looked back since.   

 

The day continued, the sun setting and the rush dying down, the part time chef leaving him alone to cook. Day turned to night and Shinjiro started to close up the kitchen. The bell above the door sounds, piercing the quiet. He looked up from his work to see a kid in a brown coat walk in. 

 

Ah, him. A wonderful end to a day. Shinjiro recalled the first time they met.

 

\---------

 

It’s not the first time the kid’s been in here—never with anyone, always with the polite smiles and ‘just so’ laughs—but it was the first time Shinjiro was the only staff member when he walked in. Typically, there’s no situation where Shinjiro would  _ have _ to be taking care of a customer. He was hired with the direct order not to serve customers, actually. His personality wasn’t necessarily one that meshed well with customer service, but here he was. He briefly paused his washing of dishes, wiping his damp hands on his apron. He reaches out and snags a menu, then hands it to the kid. 

 

A smile, a nod, and he takes the menu. Polite, as expected. 

 

“Ah, you’re one of the chefs, correct? I don’t believe we’ve properly met—I’m Akechi Goro .”

 

“Pleasure.” Shinjiro responds, already having resumed his previous task.

 

There’s a pause in the air where the kid is probably expecting a response, his name or something, but then a quiet exhale a few seconds later. It sounds vaguely like a laugh, but Shinjiro wasn’t sure. If it was a laugh, it wasn’t a particularly happy one, more derisive  than anything. Quiet set in, the soft music and the clinking of dishes the only sound in the small café.

 

The café wasn’t anything out of the ordinary—small, bright atmosphere, clean lines and modern furnishings. It had a bit of an industrial vibe, but with the soft lights and paint choices, was welcoming and homey. Wood accents, the occasional pop of a small green plant and natural lighting—the café was located in the perfect position to receive the glow that came with the setting sun. Even though the food wasn’t outstanding, it was evocative of ‘just like how mom made it’ and customers were more likely to be repeats than new ones. The reviews of this place were good, but nothing stellar, and a hole-in-the-wall joint like this was an unlikely find in the enormous Tokyo. The neighborhood wasn’t anything to write home about either; something close to the city, but just enough subway stops away to make most of the customers local to the area. Shinjiro associated the customers to the vibe of the restaurant as well—an upscale hometown restaurant of sorts. All the other staff were locals, to the point where they knew the names of all of the regulars and neighbors.

 

It was all very laid back, if not a little annoying.    

 

Shinjiro wandered his way back to the present when he realized he’d scrubbed the last plate and set it into the drying rack. He wiped his hands on his apron once more and finally payed attention to the customer. At this point, he’d be lying if it wasn’t obvious the kid was trying to size him up. Akechi gave him a quick half smile before looking back at the menu in earnest.

 

Shinjiro’s certainly someone hard to pinpoint. Tall, less sickly than he used to be yet still just as scrappy. He’d be wearing a hat if he could, but instead his shoulder length hair was pulled tightly up and out of his face in a bun, with a bandana keeping the loose hairs back. His uniform was a simple white shirt, tan pants, and a black apron, all with very faint spots of past stains that didn’t quite get all the way out. Shinjiro wasn’t ‘normal’-looking necessarily, but he isn’t anything special, and his gruff personality didn’t much help his case.  

 

He leaned back against the counter behind the bar and crossed his arms, frowning. Eventually, Akechi popped his head up from behind his menu.

 

“What would you recommend? I eat here occasionally, but I never know if I’m eating what’s popular.” He affixed a sort of soft, friendly smile on his face. Shinji frowned a little more.

 

“What do you like? Main or side dish?”

 

Could Shinjiro just have recommended something? Of course. Was he going to let this kid off easy? Nope.

 

Akechi smiles a little wider, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

 

“Ah, well, isn’t that what a recommendation is for? It’s a little later than usual, so perhaps whatever is easiest for you to make.” 

 

Shinjiro’s frown sets a little deeper, and one of his eyebrows raised slightly. 

 

“Being easy has nothing to do with it. A recommendation doesn’t mean anything unless it’s something you like.” 

 

An uncomfortable silence settled in after that, Akechi and Shinjiro staring at each other with nothing to say. An immovable force and, well, another immovable force. Thankfully, he heard the back door open and close, and the sounds of the waitress coming back in from her break.

 

“Aragaki, sorry I took so long! There was a huge line of people at the store--oh, hello Akechi-kun!” The plastic bag of cleaning supplies she was holding clunks as she set it down on the table, nodding at Shinjiro. 

 

No longer needed, Shinjiro picked up the bag and headed back to the kitchen, giving one last disapproving glance at Akechi. What a difficult kid.

 

He pretends not to hear Akechi asking about him while he cleans, and before long his co-worker popped her head through the small window.

 

“Hey, what’s the most complicated thing on our menu?”

 

\---------

 

Needless to say, since that day he and Akechi haven’t gotten along very well.  

 

The current situation was not wholly unlike the first time they met, the waitress again on her break leaving just Shinjiro, but Shinjiro had grown use to Akechi’s unshakable and forceful need to be polite. Polite… well, at least, appear polite. It was easier when other people played along, but whenever Shinjiro got the chance he’d try and shake that facade. Not in any major way, but he’d “forget” a side on his dish, maybe plate something awkwardly, just to see what would happen. Bullying wasn’t his M.O. however, especially on days like this one when the kid was practically dragging himself in the door.

 

Without a word, Shinjiro places a menu in front of him before he’d sat down, and disappears into the back. He re-emerged with the first kind of tea he found (some sort of herbal blend, smells sharp and soothing like mint) and set hot water and a tea bag in front of Akechi unprompted. Akechi looked mildly shocked, but said nothing. Shinjiro went back to his work, and not another word was spoken between the two. Eventually, the waitress came back from her break, and doesn’t seem to notice Akechi’s weariness, striking up the same conversation she always does. This time, Shinjiro makes sure not to mess with his order.

 

\-----

 

That night, when Shinjiro goes to sleep, he can’t help but feel a nagging insistence at the corner of his brain that says something’s fishy. That somehow, something is going on. But like most things, he ignores it and lays down to sleep. 

 

He doesn’t dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who wants 33 chapters of Dad Shinjiro? No one? Just me? Alright.
> 
> My tumblr is also nineofswords, and y'all better be ready for the long haul because we got a whiiiiiiile to go.
> 
> **Edited 6/13.. I'm still here folks.


	2. II: The Emperor of Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akechi becomes more confusing, Ken makes an appearance, and Shinjiro dreams.

**II.**  
THE Soul that hath a Guest,  
Doth seldom go abroad,  
Diviner Crowd at home  
Obliterate the need,  
And courtesy forbid  
A Host's departure, when  
Upon Himself be visiting  
The Emperor of Men!

 

Shinjiro’s phone alarm blares and he snaps awake, blinking a few times before sitting up on his futon and reaching to turn it off. He stretches and unplugs his phone, pocketing it as he gets up and folds the futon back into the closet. He makes his way to the small cramped bathroom in his small cramped studio apartment to brush his teeth and change into his uniform. While attempting to smooth his hair into some semblance of neat, Shinjiro looks in the mirror. He really had grown up, he thought distantly and tied the headband behind his head. It was weird to one day wake up two years older, and quite frankly he still hadn’t gotten used to it. He walks into his kitchen, clearly the most used part of the apartment, and reaches into the fridge to prepare himself breakfast.

It takes a little over 20 minutes for the meal to be ready, and once it is, he grabs a coffee mug and fills it, bringing the meal in front of the television. He clicks it on and absentmindedly watches the news while he eats. It doesn’t take long for Shinjiro to get bored and flip around to the other channels he gets courtesy of cable. Eventually, he sees someone that catches his eye--Akechi, of all people, is being interviewed on a variety show. Shinjiro sets down the remote and listens.

Although he’s come in halfway through the interview, Shinjiro gathers a little about what’s going on. Turns out, he’s a detective, and an up and coming one at that. This was even weirder. Why would he even need to be doing an interview? From the tone, Akechi was most certainly not there for an expert opinion on anything, but rather the interview was focused solely on him. Was Akechi a celebrity of sorts? It certainly seemed like it; but when did that start, or more importantly, how?

Even more surprising, Akechi was being hailed as the second Detective Prince. Small world. He knows the original Prince, if only by a few brief interactions, and was unsure if Shirogane would approve of their… spiritual successor. Shinjiro was no detective, princely or otherwise, but something didn’t fit about Akechi. It was obvious enough he was playing an act but why?

Every time Shinjiro bothered himself to think about his increasingly annoying customer it was just more questions. He listened to the rest of the interview, hoping they’d touch on his background, but of course they did not. With a frown and more questions than answers, Shinjiro get up to wash his dishes before leaving for work.

\----

The kid typically visited about once a week, and not that Shinjiro was waiting for him to show up, he certainly noticed when longer than a week had passed without a visit. This morning’s interview piqued his interest, and Shinjiro waited impatiently for the end of the day to see if the kid would make an appearance.

Akechi does show up that night. He can see him chatting with someone outside of the shop’s window, and even from where he is a good 20 feet away, he can see the boy’s exhausted. Deep dark circles, (hidden, somewhat poorly, under concealer) his typically impeccable clothing seems restrictive on his form. Shinjiro only has to take one look at him to know something is wrong, but what the problem was he had no idea.

Shinjiro lets out a quiet huff as the doorbell chimes, immediately slipping back into the kitchen to start preparing something. He knew the kid would ask for what’s popular now and he definitely had some kind of a sweet tooth. Shinjiro was not well versed in the pastry side of things so he opted for a crepe plate--popular and decently sweet. He poked his head through the window when the waitress returned, saying he was already making something. Akechi seemed mildly surprised at his agreeableness, but returned to light conversation with no comment.

Shinjiro felt at ease in the kitchen, for a multitude of reasons, but in its own way he understood the “putting a little love into it” motto. Was he fully on board? Maybe not. But at the very least, he could cook better than he could console. Large, gruff, and stubborn weren’t very good qualifications for emotional support.

Cooking takes a little longer than usual, and in that time the waitress speaks to Akechi. Shinjiro happens to overhear.

“I saw your interview today Akechi-kun! You really handled it well! I know you’ve done a lot more recently but it’s still so strange seeing you on television.”

He smiles an exhausted smile.

“Yes, that one was particularly…. Hard hitting.”

She laughs. “Akechi-kun, they were asking you about your favorite foods and colors. If that’s hard hitting for you, than Aragaki must be an interrogation for you!”

Shinjiro glances up at them and gives a small snort. Akechi mimics it.

“How long has it been since you’ve started your detective work? Is that why you haven’t been coming to see us as much lately?” She smiles slightly, pointing a chastising finger at him. “Aragaki and I have missed you!”

Shinjiro doesn’t deign that one with a response, but he sees Akechi’s more exuberant smile out of the corner of his eye.

“It hasn’t been very long at all, only about a month or so I’d say. I’ve been so caught up in it I haven’t been keeping track. I’ll make more of an effort to come see you both weekly, because I know how much Aragaki will miss me if I don’t.”

Shinjiro makes a note to leave off the jam on the crepes, and makes a noncommittal noise as his reply. The waitress laughs.

As he puts the finishing touches on the crepes, the conversation dissolves into something more personal, so Shinjiro zones out. Eventually, he steps out with the finished crepes in hand.

“Hey, you mind starting to clean up for the night?”

The waitress looked appalled that he had asked for a favor from her. Truthfully, he doesn’t ask for anything from anyone else… well, ever. If something needs to be cleaned, if they’re out of an ingredient, he does it. It takes too much time to wait on someone else, not to mention they had their own work to do. So asking her to do something was... well, unexpected. She quickly covers her shock with a big smile.

“Of course! You caught me off guard, Aragaki! I’ll get started right away.”

And, like that, she hurries off to start with the bathrooms. Akechi’s face immediately falls back into something more neutral with a relieved sigh. As much as both liked the third, she could be draining with her seemingly unending exuberance. Shinjiro sets the plate in front of Akechi, and also starts to clean up, clearing the counter. He eats quietly, and the sound of cutlery on his plate cutting slowly starts to fade off. By the time Shinjiro is done cleaning off the counter and washing all the dishes, Akechi has fallen asleep on the counter. Shinjiro snorts at the sight.

He takes Akechi’s dishes and finishes those off as well, the waitress coming back out from finishing the bathroom and smiles.

“He was really tired, huh? You want to let him nap until we have to close?”

Shinjiro nods his affirmation and both go back to their work, cleaning and closing, with Akechi’s quiet breathing as the only background noise.

It leaves more than enough time for Shinjiro to think. He typically does his best not to let his mind wander, always staying focused and in the present, but every once in awhile he can’t help it. Today seemed to be a pensive day, and Shinjiro finds himself robotically cleaning the kitchen while he thinks.

He should call Ken tonight. Make sure he’s feeding Koromaru properly--he says he is, but Koromaru’s getting older and now is the time when diet really matters. Ken himself is in highschool now, opting to stay on Tatsumi Port Island, near most of the others. Of course that too was changing; Mitsuru was taking on more and more duties for the Kirijo Group and Akihiko-

He snaps himself out of that reverie quickly enough. Shinjiro deliberately slows his work down to focus and be in the moment, ignoring the sinking feeling in his gut. When he returns to the front of the restaurant, Akechi seems to be fully awake. Sitting up a little too tall actually, like he’d just woken up from a bad dream. He immediately focused on Shinjiro and forcefully relaxes.

“Sorry about that--I suppose I was more tired than I thought. You could’ve woken me up-”

“No need.” Shinjiro responds, cutting off whatever complaint or remark Akechi would’ve spoken. “You weren’t in the way and looked like you needed a nap. Are gonna need to kick you out soon though, so I wouldn’t recommend going back to sleep.”

He gives a tired smile, and stands, gathering his stuff, namely a briefcase that looked a little too heavy duty. Shinjiro was still weary about it, why exactly that was a daily requirement. If anything, it seemed more like an accessory than anything worth investigating, but who knew with Akechi. He was a very good actor, and although he no doubt picked up on Shinjiro’s raised eyebrow and frown, didn’t seem to notice.

“I appreciate your consideration. I’ll be going now.” He places a bit more than what the dish should’ve cost down on the counter in bills and change. Shinjiro scoops up the change and, rather forcefully, puts it back in his hand, only taking the bill. Akechi is flabbergasted, but lets out a small laugh, shakes his head, and leaves.

\------

When he does get home, after taking a brief shower and stepping out of his tiny studio apartment to start laundry at the laundromat about a block away, he picks up his phone and calls Ken. He’s one of three contacts, the others being Mitsuru and his boss. His number isn’t hard to find.

The phone dial rings three times before Ken answers.

“Hello, Amada speaking.”

“You feeding Koromaru properly?”

Ken lets out an audible sigh on the other end, and he hears a bark in the background, as if Koromaru himself was confirming his proper diet.

“Hello to you too. Did you call for anything in particular Shinjiro-san?”

Did he? Although he called semi frequently to check in on Koromaru (and Ken himself), did he want to try and stir the pot? Akechi really, truly bothered him. Something about him was off, and well… it would be ridiculous to say he sensed something, he hadn’t sensed anything for years, but still. Still something was nagging him.

“...yeah, actually.”

Ken says nothing but does seem to be listening more intently, pausing whatever studying he was no doubt doing.

“There’s a kid that comes into the restaurant, probably around your age and… well, he’s fishy.”

The sound of flipping pages resumes.

“Shinjiro-san, why are you calling me about this? I can’t help you, I’m in highschool, and I have no resources to assist you. Why don’t you call Mitsuru-san or Akihi-”

Shinjiro clicks to end the call. He stares at his phone’s background for a while, not thinking of anything in particular, before noticing the time and getting up to retrieve his laundry. He did so wordlessly, the occasional person passing by on his trip to and from the laundromat, the sounds of people laughing and talking echoing from balconies and adjacent streets. He continues to not think, mechanically folding his clothes and putting them away, before his sits down on the small couch he owns. Other than the TV stand and the coffee table, this was the only piece of furniture in the small space, as the futon was currently stowed away in his closet. Although it was late and he needed to wake up early tomorrow, he continued to sit late into the night.

Finally, he gazed down at his phone, and he found himself giving Mitsuru a call. He thought nothing of the time it was, thought nothing of anything, and when the phone rang to voicemail, he hung up leaving no message.

That night, he didn’t get out his futon, not even some blankets, and fell asleep with his head against the armrest of the small couch.

\----

This time, Shinjiro dreams.

It’s disjointed, loud, and vibrant. He can tell it’s memories, times of the dark hour and the people who he met as a result, but the only bits that he remembers are times when he’s talking to Minako. How slowly, steadily, he formed a tentative friendship then grew to love her. The last time he saw her smile.

And then he’s awake, his phone blaring its alarm, and the is moment ruined.

He gets up from his spot on the couch, bones and muscles protesting as he tries to stretch, and turns off his alarm, getting ready for the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Quick notes--I do consider Arena and Ultimax to be in this canon, but Q is def not. So Shinji knows (almost) all the P4 folks if only from brief interactions post Arena/from hearsay from the other Shadow Operative members. I don’t plan on bringing in any P4 characters in this one, but who knows if I’ll actually follow my plot notes lmao. 
> 
> Also, timelines--hooo boy this would be easier if Atlus just agreed p5 was in 2016, but for the sake of this canon it is. This chapter however, is 2 years before in 2014. I’ll probably end up drawing up a timeline for this Mess. I can’t reveal too much right now because it would spoil things, but I’ll def make one in the near future! 
> 
> Let me know what you think, and all of the previous comments are greatly appreciated!!! <3 The story starts to pick up from here, so I assure you they’ll be bigger chapters/more eventful days for our friends in the near future.
> 
> Thanks to Aero for his help with beta-ing last chapter (find them on tumblr as user todoiizuku), and Emily for her help with making sure I actually follow our plot!


	3. III: No Lives are Round

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mitsuru has a rough morning. Ken contemplates. Akechi gets some teasing in. Shinjiro meets with an old friend.

**III.**

 

EXCEPT the smaller size, no Lives are round,

These hurry to a sphere, and show, and end.

The larger, slower grow, and later hang–

The Summers of Hesperides are long.

  


Mitsuru woke up promptly when her maid pulled open the blinds to her room. Judging by how bright the sun was, she had slept a little later than intended. Thankfully, there was nothing urgent to attend to today; a rare day where she could relax.

“Good morning Mistress. Shinjiro attempted to contact you very late last night, around 2 AM.”

Ah. With a quiet sigh, Mitsuru sits up and stretches. The maid left as quickly as she appeared, leaving her to begin her daily routine. She checked her phone as she brushed her teeth. Of course he didn’t leave a message. Judging by the time, he’d already left for work and wouldn’t have his phone with him. If there was one thing Mitsuru knew about Shinjiro, it was he had a general aversion to carrying his phone. Or even having a phone in the first place. He didn’t want to break his track record of rarely engaging in conversation it would seem. Mitsuru sighs, sets down her phone, and finishes getting ready for the day.

 

By the time she’s done, it’s 9 AM and she heads into her dining room where Kikuno and Aigis are waiting.

“Good morning Mistress. As I’m sure you were already told, Shinjiro tried to call you late last night.” She sets a newspaper next to Mitsuru’s breakfast—coffee and an omelet with toast.

“Yes, I was told earlier. And he left no message, so who knows what he was calling about in the first place. Would you mind trying to call him?”

She poses it as a question, but knows that Kikuno has already dialed the number. They lived on the same wavelength—had for a while now seeing as they grew up together—and the question was a formality more than anything. She heard the phone ring five times before switching over to the standard voicemail message.

 

Aigis chimes up from her side of the table.

“Do you think Ken is aware of the situation? I am sure Shinjiro calls him to ask about Koromaru with some regularity.”

Mitsuru nods, and takes a long sip of her coffee before taking out her own phone. Nine in the morning; Ken was most likely in school, but it wouldn’t hurt to just send a text message to him.    

“Please contact me at your earliest convenience.”

 

She’s about three quarters of the way through the cover story in the Business section of the paper when she gets a call.

“Mitsuru-san, how can I help?”

It’s Ken, out of breath and prompt as always.

“Hello Ken. Shouldn’t you be in class?” 

“Yes, but you never contact me unless it’s very important, so I assumed it was. Is it not?”

Mitsuru pauses. “Maybe?”

Ken pauses as well, and it sounds as if he leaned away from the phone to sigh. “What’s the problem?”

“Since you talk to Shinjiro the most I figured I’d ask you if you knew what’s going on. He never calls me but he did early this morning and didn’t leave a message.”

“I assume you tried calling his phone but he didn’t answer?”

“Correct.”

 

Mitsuru doesn’t need to see him to know his brow is furrowed in what is probably annoyance.

“He mentioned a little to me, but I couldn’t help. Something about a suspicious person that keeps showing up at his work?”

“Suspicious person? Odd. Did he say anything else?”

“He mentioned the person was around my age, but hung up when I suggested he call you or Akihiko-san.”

Mitsuru doesn’t move away from the phone to sigh.

“Ah. Thank you for your help Ken. Will you please call me if he talks to you again—” 

“Mitsuru-san, with all due respect, just go in person. We’re not going to get anywhere if I’m the go-between.”

 

A beat of silence.

“Yes that’s… a much better idea. Thank you Ken. I’ll be in touch.” 

Mitsuru hands the phone back to Kikuno once she’s finished. Aigis looks up expectantly from across the table. Something about her gaze brings back bubbly laughter and the soft whirring of a CD being rewound inside its player.

 

“Aigis, are you free this week?”

 

* * *

 

 

Ken breaths out when he hears the dial tone. He’s never talked back to Mitsuru about Shinjiro before, but the situation was getting out of hand. He couldn’t play the messenger for such an important matter like this. And frankly, he was getting rather sick of it. He was out of the Shadow Operatives for crying out loud. Their problems shouldn’t concern him.

… After sending a quick message of apology to Mitsuru, Ken pockets his phone and looks up from where he’s sitting. He does his best to avoid the roof of Gekkoukan, but it’s the most convenient place for him to duck out briefly to get some air or take a call. Some days he even successfully forgets about this place’s existence. He feels guilty on those days. It felt like a disservice to forget someone who did so much. Sometimes he thinks about carving a memorial into the wood of the bench here, but defacing school property would be extremely unbecoming of the student body president. He thinks Hamuko would forgive him for that after laughing at how serious he’s being.

It doesn’t take long to get back to his class after that. He enters the class quietly, giving the teacher a nod and a smile before taking his seat. Ken settles himself in and opens his notebook to continue taking notes as the clock ticks faintly.

 

* * *

 

 

Some days, the world doesn’t seem to process correctly for Shinjiro. He wakes up, goes to work, cooks, cleans, and goes home. Some days, the food he’s cooking doesn’t leave memorable impressions, the sweat on his brow means nothing, and the circular chopping motions become unending. Herbs, green onions, red onions, peppers, salads—order comes in, order goes out, dishes come back. Some days there’s nothing but the work that is set in front of him and he’s little more than going through the motions.

Shinjiro’s learned to try a little harder on those days. He focuses harder on the orders and on the cycle, because sometimes the best way to keep yourself from getting caught up in the tide is to swim with it. Little by little, he can veer himself back on track. He’s gotten better about it too, what with years of experience, but it helps when the sun starts to set and the dinner rush has died down. There’s something innately soothing about dusk, when the streetlights start to turn on even with the sun still in the sky. The world was silent save for the humming lights and the distant sounds of cars, the bustling of waiters collecting orders and plates, and the soft rhythmic slicing.

 

The bell jingles, and he pauses his chopping if only just for a second. Shinjiro’s eyes flitter to the door and then back, and then twice more. Was… was that Aigis? Surely not. A quadruple take. Nope, that was Aigis. In the flesh. Or, metal.

He’s already got his apron off, and he’s halfway across the room to the door before the waitress he always closes with greets Aigis. He vaguely notices Akechi seated at the bar as he grabs hold of Aigis’ arm to walk her back out of the shop.

“I’m taking a break. I’ll be back in 15.”  

“O-oh, oka-”

 

The bell sounds again, and the cool dusk air smacks Shinjiro in the face as he lets go of Aigis and turns to look at her.

“What do you want?”

Accusatory is the wrong way to describe his tone. Exhausted was maybe more accurate.

 

Unfazed, Aigis blinks and speaks, “Hello Shinjiro. I am here because Mitsuru asked me to be.”

Shinjiro scoffs, “She could’ve called.”

“Actually, she could not have. Your phone is not on your person most hours of the day.”

Shinjiro pinches the bridge of his nose. “She could’ve gotten a hold of Ken.”

“She did. And Ken did not want to be the go-between. So here I am.”

“Here you are.”

 

There’s a beat of silence between the two of them. Aigis seems to be expectantly waiting for a reason Shinjiro doesn’t appear to have at the moment. He knows his intuition is spot on here and there is something going on with this Akechi kid, but he couldn’t ask them to tail someone with absolutely no information. He supposes he could, but he wasn’t quite willing to put anyone else’s neck on the line with this just yet.

A front door slams somewhere in the distance.

 

“I get off work in half an hour. You okay to wait until then?”

“Yes, that is acceptable. I will be here until then.”

“You’re just gonna stand outside?”

“Would you prefer me to stand inside?”

“...I’ll be back later.”

 

* * *

 

 

“O-oh, okay!”

 

The bell jingles as Shinjiro leaves the shop with the girl. Akechi raises his eyebrow slightly, sunken eyes peering over his coffee and crepes.

 

“Who’s that?” 

“I don’t know,” responds the waitress, “He’s never had someone stop in to see him before.”

“Never?”

“No, the boss said he moved here from a city kinda far away. Plus, you know Shinjiro, he likes to keep to himself.”

Akechi huffs out a laugh at that.

 

“What a nice way to say he’s a grouch.” 

“Akechi!” The waitress smacks him on the back for that, lightly.

“You be nice to him!”

“Yes, yes, of course.”

 

The bell announces Shinjiro’s presence as he steps back inside with long strides and renewed vigor. The chef seemed out of it while Akechi was here, so it was a bit of a surprise for him to march back like that. The girl outside seemed to not have moved after their conversation and was just staring into the restaurant. That was unsettling. Akechi tried not to meet her eyes.  

 

“Shinjiro, you’re just going to leave her standing out there? How cruel.” Akechi speaks up, and Shinjiro just briefly glances at Akechi before huffing and going back to work.

“I’m finishing up early tonight. Sorry to leave you to close up by yourself.”

“No, you’re fine Shinjiro-san! You always help me out, so go take a break with your… friend.”

The waitress stumbles a little over the last part, unsure how to address the woman outside. Who was still just standing there. Staring. 

“Yeah, she’s… an old friend. Doesn’t get out much. Don’t mind her, she’s harmless.”

 

The conversation ends at that point, the waitress looking over to Akechi and both sharing a questioning look before going back to what they were doing. Shinjiro seems to finish up his tasks rather quickly, hanging his apron on the hook before pulling on his jacket on his way out.

Akechi gets one last rib in as Shinjiro leaves.

“See you Shinjiro. Tell your friend we said hi.”

 

Akechi grins, like he knows something. Shinjiro gives him a withering look and doesn’t answer. Akechi follows the two of them out of the corner of his eye before looking back at the waitress. She barely waits for the door to shut behind Shinjiro before launching into her questioning.

 

“So who do you think that was? ‘An old friend’? What does that mean?”

 

* * *

  

The walk from the restaurant to Shinjiro’s apartment is quiet. The two keep almost perfect time with each other; Aigis takes one-and-a-half steps for every one Shinjiro takes, yet somehow they move as a unit. Aigis doesn’t try to make small talk, which is good because Shinjiro isn’t sure how he would respond. He’s still not sure how to talk to Aigis sometimes, if only because she was almost… too human. More human than he was maybe.  

 

It’s just around October. The air is getting crisper, and Shinjiro buries his face into the collar of his jacket as they walk. Aigis, unaffected, moves along quietly.

 

“Gonna stop in to this store really quick. Pick up some snacks and tea. You want anything?”

Aigis blinks owlishly before shaking her head. “No, I am alright, thank you.”

 

Shinjiro pauses, realizes she can’t really eat anything, nods, and then walks into the store. A melody chimes softly as the doors slide open. He picks up a few snacks for himself and a bottle of iced tea. The cashier babbles amicably, gets his change, and sends him off. When he steps back out, Aigis has taken up a spot on the wall of the convenience store and is looking up at the night sky.

Shinjiro steps to the side and joins her. There’s not much to see out this way, in the suburbs of Tokyo. Tatsumi Port wasn’t much better in terms of visibility though. The only truly discernable light is the moon itself and the occasional passing plane. Clouds roll through, and Shinjiro distantly thinks about the weather forecast. Storms coming in the next few days, it would seem.

He gets a chance to really look at Aigis. Not much has changed about her, not much could change considering she was robotic, but she seemed… older. Maybe it was the way she carried herself, the way her face formed emotion now, or even the style of dress. She opted for no shoes—Shinjiro didn’t blame her, it’s not like she needed to wear them—a pair of jeans, and a white shirt hiding under a bright red cable knit sweater. Shinjiro stood in stark contrast wearing the same jacket he always had.

 

Aigis speaks up, “Shinjiro, are you doing well?”

He’s not sure how to answer that. He opts not to, at least for a little while, and motions for her to join him in walking again. As they continue, Shinjiro answers her.

“I’m... alright, I guess. There’s nothing bad going on. My job is okay, and the people I work with are fine. Customers aren’t too picky either.”

“Why did you move to Tokyo?”

Shinjiro lets out a long breath. “You know why, Aigis. I needed to leave.”

“Yes, I am aware of the circumstances, but why Tokyo? You could’ve gone many other places.”

Shinjiro motions to the upcoming apartment building and starts to climb the stairs. Aigis shadows him, eyes trained on him and his response.

“I don’t know. My boss offered me a position at a new location and I took it. An opportunity came up and I left.”

 

The clacking of Aigis’ metal feet against the stairwell was Shinjiro’s only response. He kept his eyes purposely trained forward so he wouldn’t have to look at her expression. The stairwell ended on the fourth floor, and he fishes into his pocket for his keys. Aigis loomed over his shoulder, and Shinjiro fumbles before unlocking the door. He wills his hands to stop shaking and puts his grocery bag down on the counter.

 

“Excuse me.”

 

Aigis stepped in and closed the door behind her, and Shinjiro motioned towards the couch with a hand. Aigis seemed surprised by something. Whether it was the stark lack of any personal belongings or how small the apartment was, Shinjiro wasn’t sure. He poured himself a glass of iced tea and sat down on the floor opposite Aigis, his eyes focused on the tea in his hands. He took a deep breath.

 

“What did you call Mitsuru about? Ken mentioned a suspicious boy his age.”

Shinjiro pressed his hands into the cold cup, relieved by the subject change. 

“Yeah, he was the one in the store earlier. He’s an upcoming celebrity of sorts in the area, the next ‘detective prince’. There’s… something off about him. I can’t place it but, there is.”

 

Aigis blinked. 

“Hm. In what way?”

“He just doesn’t add up. Detective or no, he came out of nowhere and his words don’t line up with his mannerisms. And not in just a lying way. There’s something malicious about it.”

Aigis tilts her head slightly at that.

“Strange. Are you suggesting we look into him?”

“Maybe. Just public records right now. Nothing too obvious. I don’t know if he’s dangerous or what support he has, so nothing that could suggest who we are.”

“I will make sure the investigation is as sneaky as possible.”

 Shinjiro lets out a huff of laughter at that, and Aigis gives him a soft smile back.

“Was there anything else Shinjiro?”

“No, that was it.”

 

Aigis stands at that, nodding.

“Then I will not intrude any further. Please keep your phone on your person for when I call.”

Aigis moves to the door and Shinjiro scrambles up to show her out.

“And Shinjiro? It is not my place to tell you how to live but… I do hope you come back soon.”

 

She bows slightly as Shinjiro holds the door open for her, and slips out. Shinjiro closes the door softly as the clinking of her feet on the stairs fades. He trudges over to the couch and lies down, staring up at nothing, his tea forgotten.

 

He doesn’t sleep well that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry everyone it’s been a while—I’m always actively thinking about this fic and writing bits where I can, it’s just been several rough months on top of other creative projects draining me. Thank you all so much for the continued support both here and on my blog. I’m consistently astounded by how many hits, kudos, and comments I’ve gotten, and I’m so glad that I can share my pet project and have others enjoy it. 
> 
> Thanks go to Emily for helping me with character consistency, and JoHannah for copy editing my garbled mess of a rough draft. 
> 
> As always, feel free to reach out to me on my tumblr, nineofswords, or in the comments. Any feedback and support is appreciated much more than I can ever express with words. Although I cannot guarantee a date, I am working on editing the first two chapters. I do realize there’s errors, so I apologize for that, and appreciate y’all for bearing with me.


	4. IV: Fame is a Fickle Food

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Insight into Akechi. The author decides to no longer bind themselves by stupid rules and instead throws you chapters to progress the plot already.

**IV.**

FAME is a fickle food

Upon a shifting plate,

Whose table once a Guest, but not

The second time, is set.

Whose crumbs the crows inspect,

And with ironic caw

Flap past it to the Farmer's corn;

Men eat of it and die.

  
  


* * *

 

When Akechi does dream, it’s loud, disjointed, and violent. Yellow eyes and gray backgrounds, stark whites stained crimson. When Akechi does dream, between fitful day naps and restless nights, it always ends in sitting up in bed, drenched in sweat. He used to scream--still does on the occasion the dream is jarring enough--but most of the time he just drags shaking hands through his hair enough times that he feels some semblance of human again. When Akechi does dream, he surely wishes he hadn’t. But ah, what does Akechi get to wish for nowadays. 

Another sleepless night under his belt, Akechi rises from bed, clanging briefly over at the clock to see how early he was waking up this time. Good. 4:30 AM. Another shaky hands tugs through his hair as he slinks his way to the shower.

Once he’s gotten out of the shower, halfheartedly tugging himself through his shower and skincare routine, Akechi slaps a decent amount of concealer on his face before flopping down on his couch and turning on his television, his phone already logged into one social media site or another. His followers always shoots up for a short while after an interview, and he posts rarely enough between interviews that most keep following him. He’s got it down to a science at this point, but the comments on those few posts will keep going long after he’s posted them. He gets the most joy out of those, even if it’s a half-hearted sort of happiness. Today however, being abruptly awoken on top of a few bothersome comments, only gave Akechi a sneer and a sudden urge to fling his phone somewhere. Another shaky hand pulls through his hair, and he instead opts to turn his phone off and set it to the side rather than follow that urge. 

His attention turns to the television screen. His fingers, currently unoccupied, itch for something to do, and he seeks out his briefcase, filled with paperwork after paperwork. He reorganizes it for the umpeenth time that week while he watches t.v. It’s just local news, the daily programming just about to start, and the anchors look bright eyed, but Akechi figures they themselves had dark circles hidden behind concealer. They talk about the weather forecast, a bit about sports, before finally sending it back to episode re-runs of some old variety show. Akechi only catches bits and pieces as he falls asleep sitting up.

When Akechi dreams, and it’s vaguely peaceful, it’s probably only because the television runs in the background, feeding him pleasant thoughts.

 

* * *

 

Akechi gets woken back up by his alarm at 6 AM sharp. He stands immediately and begins the day, shutting off the television that ran in the background of his only few hours of restful sleep, and moving to make himself something for breakfast. At 6 AM every morning Akechi Goro becomes a real human being, and continues to be one until about 5 PM every night. 

He eats, touches up his makeup, brushes his teeth, and does anything else he needs to before he leaves the house at 7 AM, catching the 7:15 train into his work. He stands in a corner, pressed against the door today, half smile affixed to his face while he absent mindedly scrolls through his phone. He gets off at his stop, goes into the police station, and does whatever busy work they give him. He gets a lot of busy work, which is to be expected he guessed, but he’s been getting less nowadays. Even if his slowly building reputation was bothering some of the other older detectives, they couldn’t deny his results. 

The work day ends. Akechi goes home. Night time comes, he tries to sleep, fails, and then the work day begins again.

* * *

 

“An old friend? What do you think that means?” The waitress strikes up conversation immediately upon Shinjiro’s abrupt exit. Days when he found the time to come out to the restaurant were certainly the most memorable for Akechi, even if they weren’t usually also the most… exhausting. He could only keep a full watt smile on for so long.

“Ah, who knows.” Akechi says, tapping a finger against his chin. “Could it be.. An old flame?” 

The waitress bubbles with laughter. “I can’t imagine that. I’m sure Aragaki has dated but I don’t think it would be her.”

“Why? They’re perfect for each other,” Akechi says, his mouth turning upwards. “Both awkward and unnerving.” 

The waitress bats at Akechi’s arm playfully, her laughter continuing as she makes her way to the back to finish up her duties for the night. Akechi nurses the cup of coffee he’d been given earlier, and thinks. Was he all that concerned with Aragaki in general? No, not really. Maybe his food could be poisoned if he teased the other too much, but not much outside of that. This was certainly a new development however. Akechi just got a very… odd feeling from the one Aragaki had mentioned was an old friend. A strange lingering feeling.

Akechi put it from his mind when the waitress came back out to talk about something or other, and it was quickly forgotten about in the hustle and bustle of his days.

 

* * *

When Shinjiro dreams, unbeknownst to him, his dreams are very similar to Akechi’s. Less of gray backgrounds and more of huge shadows morphing this way and that, but similar. The shadows eventually give way to disjointed words, and eventually blackness. Shinjiro’s dreams almost always end that way--just, black. He was out for so long after all, when he offhandedly mentioned it to a doctor one day, they said it was natural. His mind was trying to fill in a big gap. What it didn’t account for was why some of it felt so real, like a first hand lived experience. The remaining members of S.E.E.S told him very little of what happened in Tartarus while he was out, but some of his dreams seemed to fill in those full moons he  _ couldn’tve  _ been there for. 

When Shinjiro dreams, it’s about the past. It’s about trying to make sense of something he never came to terms with. Something he’s not sure he ever will. But when Shinjiro wakes up, all he is is confused and disoriented. Has to check his flip phone to see the time (the date, the year) to ground himself.

When Shinjiro dreams, he pulls himself out of his futon and starts his day, going through the motions, and thinks nothing more of them. Shinjiro’s very good at not thinking about anything in particular by now.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, guess who’s back. I just finished releasing my book and getting my nose to the grindstone on that writing pursuit, and I could finally re-channel energy. Unfort, I’m about to start my last semester in college, so don’t expect too much until like, December. ^^;;; That being said, once school’s out of the way I’ll have a lot more opportunity for writing on consistent schedules. Also, lmk if y’all’d much rather have consistent writing updates (but I’ll take a while to set up a backlog) or just whenever I finish them.
> 
> (PS. one more chapter until a timeskip and things Actually Happen. Swear it.)
> 
> Also… I made a discord for Single Hound… come join if u want some Off The Record insight, to ask some questions, and/or really bad memes.
> 
> https://discord.gg/45Q9b7k


End file.
